Mrs. M'Catchley was a very fine woman--a woman who justified Mrs. Pompley's pride in her. Her cheekbones were rather high, it is true, but that proved the purity of her Caledonian descent; for the rest, she had a brilliant complexion, heightened by a _soupcon_ of rouge--good-eyes and teeth, a showy figure, and all the ladies of Screwstown pronounced her dress to be perfect. She might have arrived at that age at which one intends to stop for the next ten years, but even a Frenchman would not have called her _passee_--that is, for a widow. For a spinster, it would have been different. Looking round her with a glass, which Mrs. Pompley was in the habit of declaring that "Mrs. M'Catchley used like an angel," this lady suddenly perceived Leonard Avenel; and his quiet, simple, thoughtful air and looks so contrasted with the stiff beaux, to whom she had been presented, that experienced in fashion as so fine a personage must be supposed to be, she was nevertheless deceived into whispering to Mrs. Pompley-- "That young man has really an _air distingue_--who is he?" "Oh," said Mrs. Pompley, in unaffected surprise, "that is the nephew of the rich Vulgarian I was telling you of this morning." "Ah! and you say that he is Mr. Arundel's heir?" "Avenel--not Arundel--my sweet friend." "Avenel is not a bad name," said Mrs. M'Catchley. "But is the uncle really so rich?" "The Colonel was trying this very day to guess what he is worth; but he says it is impossible to guess it." "And the young man is his heir." "It is thought so: and reading for college, I hear. They say he is clever." "Present him, my love: I like clever people," said Mrs. M'Catchley, falling back languidly. About ten minutes afterwards, Richard Avenel, having effected his escape from the Colonel, and his gaze being attracted towards the sofa table by the buzz of the admiring crowd, beheld his nephew in animated conversation with the long-cherished idol of his dreams. A fierce pang of jealousy shot through his breast. His nephew never looked so handsome and so intelligent; in fact, poor Leonard had never before been drawn out by a woman of the world, who had learned how to make the most of what little she knew. And, as jealousy operates like a pair of bellows on incipient flames, so, at first sight of the smile which the fair widow bestowed upon Leonard, the heart of Mr. Avenel felt in a blaze.